


Murder of C(r)ows

by bumbleflight



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M, petekey, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:07:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24888097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bumbleflight/pseuds/bumbleflight
Summary: "I hate you," The other boy huffed, before offering up his name. "I'm Mikey Way, and that's my tree you're standing under.""Mikey Way," Pete repeated, in his weird, upper-class voice. "I think I could get used to that."
Relationships: Mikey Way/Pete Wentz
Kudos: 4





	Murder of C(r)ows

Mikey had been expecting to find a lot of things in his backyard after hearing a gunshot. It was the middle of the night, which meant someone was trying to steal their cattle again and had shot the dog, or someone was lost and firing for help.

There was, of course, the pressing possibility that America had finally been invaded and Mikey's parents had just sent him to his death, but Mikey was trying to stay optimistic and prayed it wasn't that.

The house was far enough away now that if Mikey was chased and try to run back, he wouldn't be able to make it in time. Growing a bit more cautious, Mikey turned off his flashlight and stored it quietly in his pocket. Better to get lost then carry a spotlight that practically screamed, "Shoot me!"

Then again, being shot might not be the worst thing that happened to Mikey today.

Fourteen months after being drafted, his brother had come home. Some might consider that a good thing, but Mikey did not. His brother was an asshole, who seemed to have no issue putting his nose where it didn't belong, and then fucking with everything in arms-reach. His grandparents had hoped that the war environment would be able to fix Gerard, but Mikey didn't believe that for a second.

Mikey knew Gerard better than anyone. He was trapped with Gerard and could never escape him, even at their painfully small school. Until Gerard was eight they'd shared a bed, and now the walls of Mikey's tiny – but private – bedroom seemed to close in on him at night. The large, endless fields outside his window made his claustrophobia worse, as they proved how isolated Mikey really was.

Mikey also really, really hated Gerard. Gerard had no problem talking to girls, and even if he did, it wouldn't matter. They were all attracted to him like flies anyway

The toe of Mikey's boot smacked against a log, and Mikey flinched, wishing he could see more. But even without the flashlight on, it was impossible to miss the figure down the hill. They were standing quietly over an object too large to be a human body, with their back to Mikey. The thing on the ground looked like a large animal, maybe one of Mikey's cattle.

"Hello?" Mikey called, careful to stay cautious in case the guy came at him. "Are you okay?" Mikey could see the boy now – he looked around Mikey's age, with tanned skin and darker hair. He looked lost.

"I didn't want to kill it," The guy shook his head, putting his hands up innocently. Mikey flinched, before realizing the guy wasn't holding anything. No guns or knives, yet.

"If I walk over there, are you going to shoot me?" Mikey asked, trying his best to squash the humor out of his voice. It wasn't funny, but the way this guy was acting was.

The guy shook his head again. "It wasn't on the agenda, I promise." He was speaking English, so as far as Mikey was concerned this guy wasn't an enemy soldier.

"Alright," Mikey nodded, carefully walking over. The guy shuffled a step back so Mikey could see better, and he grunted at the sight. It definitely was a dead cow, with a coin-sized black and brown hole near her ear and a small trail of blood leading out of her mouth. Her small brown body was already bloated with the gas that was breaking down her intestines, and her legs stuck out at awkward angles because of it. The shocking part, however, was the giant silvery piece of shrapnel slicing into the cow's intestines, spilling parts of her out onto the field. It had to be as big as a dinner plate, if not larger. "What the fuck."

"It looked like it was in pain," the guy tried to explain. He looked extremely guilty for what he'd done. Why was he on their property? "I didn't mean to kill your cow, I really wasn't thinking. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well she was going to die anyway, with that thing in her." Mikey rubbed a hand over his face, sighing. His grandparents weren't going to be happy with this. Since the announcement that a tax deduction was given to those who sold food to the army, every cow had counted for them. "Are you okay? Do you need help?"

The guy stiffened a little, shrugging. "I'm fine. I – I think I have to go." Flies had begun to gather around the dead cow's head, and Mikey supposed it was only a matter of time until the animals began to eat away at her.

"Wait – here, take this." Mikey glanced down, patting through his pockets until he found his flashlight. When he looked up again to hand it to the guy, there was no one there.

Mikey swung his head around, because no, people did not just disappear! But this person was definitely, one hundred percent not here, and the pointy shoe-prints in the dirt proved it wasn't just a hallucination, because Mikey was wearing rounded work-boots, and had never seen a pair of pointy shoes in his life, except for catalogs.

•••

Mikey started his next day by puking.

In the sink, of course, because by this point it had almost become a normality. Every morning he'd wake up with a jolting pain in his chest, before scrambling out of bed and into the bathroom. It was just bile, but that didn't make the ordeal any more enjoyable. His grandfather would joke that Mikey was suffering from "morning sickness," and Gerard would never seem to get tired of fighting that theory by claiming Mikey was far too un-fuckable to ever get pregnant. It apparently mattered to no one that he wasn't a girl.

Once his stomach seemed satisfied enough to take a break from heaving, Mikey rinsed out the sink, splashing some water over his mouth and chin for good measure. What the school library had to offer told him that if something didn't change soon, the acid would wear holes in his teeth. And while Mikey wasn't exactly thrilled by that, he was more worried about getting an ulcer or something. Unfortunately, his grandparents believed in no medicine other than rose water and garlic, and Mikey supposed that was something he'd have to deal with until he moved out.

It was possible that day would never come, though; as Gerard obviously wasn't going to be the one to inherit the farm once their grandparents died. Mikey didn't exactly find his future in this estate charming, but it wasn't bleak either. The farm industry was doing just fine with all the food being bought by the government, and Mikey assumed at least some of this wealth had to be passed onto him eventually. After all, wheat and beef weren't exactly a shrinking industry.

Mikey got dressed as any decent person would, before heading downstairs. His too-large glasses slipped down his nose as he walked, and he pushed them back habitually with a finger. It had to be at least six already, where were his grandparents? He didn't expect to see Gerard down here, of course, because even when Gerard wasn't sleeping his own bed for the first time in over a year, he wouldn't make it down until the sun was high up in the sky.

Letting the screen door slam behind him, Mikey grabbed a bucket and headed down the gravelly road. It was cold, but that wasn't unexpected in a March morning. Soon, it would be warm again, and the hens would start laying. Until then, Mikey could feed them without worrying about collecting eggs or territorial roosters, who were always especially bad when the heat came out.

The walk reminded him of the night before, and the dead cow that still needed to be removed from the eastern field. Where had that boy hidden in the darkness? Wasn't he hungry?

For a short moment, Mikey imagined leaving out a plate of hot breakfast – like a block of cheese when trying to trap a mouse – but discarded it quickly. That was stupid, really. Whoever had been there last night was obviously gone by now, and Mikey wished them the best. Well, the best that could be wished to someone who had just killed an animal of yours.

Jesus, Mikey was really hoping that boy would come back.

The morning dew made the icy metal handle of the feed silo slippery, and Mikey fought with it for a moment before the powdery dust petered down into his bucket below. Coughing at the clouds that rose about the feed, Mikey twisted the silo shut. It wasn't a long walk to the chicken coop itself, with a neatly fenced yard and tin roof. It wasn't going to last, though. When the next rotation of grazing came for the cattle, the birds were moved out to the fields to break down the manure. Mikey hated that part, because it was when the majority of them got killed. No matter how the Way family tried, nothing would keep out the raccoons and foxes that wormed through the grazing triangles. Sometimes Mikey felt as if animals killed for sport - leaving mangled chicken bodies where they'd been killed rather than eating them. He hated it.

Maybe that boy would know how to fix it.

To say that Mikey didn't have many friends would have been an overstatement. Despite getting along with the other guys at school, Mikey didn't have any friends. He didn't feel as if he'd needed them either – the horses and fresh air had always sufficed – however, this mysterious stranger was sorely changing his mind. It wasn't every day you found someone like that.

As he headed back to the house, Mikey dropped by the driving team's paddock. Cutting free two flakes, Mikey threw them over the fence and shouted. After a moment, he saw their long black ears and narrow faces poking over the hill as the horses approached. That was enough for him – just feeding and making sure they hadn't died in the night was all he'd needed to do.

When Mikey got back, he could hear voices coming from the kitchen. As he went inside, he could tell exactly who two were, and who one wasn't. His grandparents, and then . . . That wasn't Gerard, was it? Gerard couldn't have changed so much that Mikey didn't recognize his voice anymore, could he?

In the kitchen was Mikey's grandparents and Gerard, but the mysterious voice came from a man at the table. He was drinking a cup of coffee Mikey's grandmother had undoubtedly forced upon him (she was a very headstrong woman) and glanced up when Mikey entered the room. The man's long face was defined with sharp cheekbones, and an even sharper nose. He still had acne from his youth, but his receding hairline and crinkling eyes proved him to be growing out of it.

"Mikey!" Mr. Way smiled as Mikey came in, nodding. "This is Mr. Wright; he just moved here with his son."

Mr. Wright chuckled at this, taking a sip of his drink politely. "He's my Godson, I'm not quite that old, yet!" Which was a joke, obviously, as someone in their mid-thirties may as well have been on their second child by then. Mikey searched the man's fingers for a wedding ring but came up empty.

Forcing a grim smile on his face, Mikey extended a hand to shake. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Wright. Welcome to Dewey."

"Thank you, Mikey!" The man grinned, nodding.

They shook hands firmly, and the contact sent a sudden course of horror rushing through Mikey. It was as if someone had dumped a bucket of cold water on him, causing Mikey to gasp and pull away violently, his hands trembling slightly. He felt as if hid stomach had dropped into a pit, and his brains had just been pulled out his nose. What the fuck.

"Mikey!" Mrs. Way said sternly at her grandson's sudden freak-out, and Mr. Wright furrowed his brow with concern. "Are you alright, there?"

"I– Jesus, sorry," Mikey was unable to form words, trembling as his heart pounded in his chest. What was that? What had just happened? "A cow's dead," Mikey said to no one in particular, before turning and running out the screen door.

•••

Mikey hadn't expected to find the mysterious boy from yesterday quite so soon. Especially not in his own front yard.

But as he ran out the door, he was quickly spotted by a boy leaning against a tree, fiddling with something. A cigarette, maybe? Mikey wasn't sure.

"Hey," The dude acknowledged, but Mikey was still slow with confusion. Able to study the stranger more closely in the daylight, Mikey ran his eyes over the other's olive skin, watching as the curve of his ear bled down to his narrow jawline. His brown eyes seemed alive with curiosity, and his clothing reeked of being loaded. The guy wasn't exactly bad looking, but there was something off-putting about him, as well.

"Like what you see?" The stranger put down the cigarette he was holding between nimble fingers. It wasn't lit, anyway. Mikey supposed he could have answered yes to the question, but he didn't much care for city folk, and less for snobs, at that.

"Aren't you the guy from yesterday?" Mikey asked, shoving up his glasses and pacing over. "What happened last night? What are you doing at my house?"

The dude shrugged carelessly. "Fucking hell, nice to meet you, too. I'm Pete."

Mikey was nothing short of gasping at this, because who introduced themselves like that? Is this what the city was like? Go wherever and say whatever without consequences? Well, curse that. "Did you kill my cow on purpose?"

"What?" Pete wrinkled his nose, before remembering what Mikey was talking about. "Oh, oh. No, I didn't, I really didn't mean for the thing to die. I honest to God didn't." He paused, looking regretfully at the unlit cigarette in his hand before pocketing it. "My uncle's here, too. You should ask him if you don't believe me – I'm a pretty good kid. I don't kill shit for fun, like some guys do."

"Mr. Wright is your uncle?" Mikey asked in surprise, and Pete nodded. "Yeah," He confirmed, scratching the back of his head. "The old man kicked the bucket, so now I'm stuck with this loon."

"So, you'll be staying awhile?" Mikey asked hopefully, and Pete gave him a weird look that made Mikey instantly regret what he'd said. This is why he had no friends – because he couldn't make a conversation go right.

"You just can't get enough of me, can you?" Pete said after a moment, standing up to stretch. "It's fine, I get it. I'm smoking hot. You're not so bad yourself, in the daylight. At night you can be pretty scary."

"No, I–" Mikey paused, shaking his head as Pete gathered up his bag. "Don't leave yet. Please? It's really lonely around here." Despite the boy's horrible manners and clothing, Mikey didn't want him to go.

Pete snorted at this, screwing up his face and shaking his head. "You're goddamn right, it is. What do you do around here for fun? Shuck corn? Sacrifice babies?"

When Mikey didn't reply, Pete shrugged, taking the other boy's glasses and trying them on. "Wow," The city boy murmured. "You are goddamn blind. Are your specs a hundred inches thick?" He took them off, handing them back to Mikey with a lopsided grin. Their hands touched briefly as Mikey snatched the glasses back, and Mikey wiped them on his jeans like they were filthy. "Can you even see out of those pretty eyes?" Pete asked, giving him a sideways look, making Mikey frown.

"You know," Mikey said between grit teeth. "The second to last arrest in town was for homosexuality." He wasn't sure who he was trying to warn more – Pete, or himself.

"Jesus," Pete said, drawing out the first half. "If that was second to last, what was the latest arrest for?"

Mikey frowned. Before he'd joined the military, Gerard had wanted to be a cop. This gave Mikey the inside information he really didn't need about the Police Department while his brother was training. "Uh, jaywalking."

Pete burst into laughter at this. It was a full-hearted, happy laugh. "I guess this town's got their priorities straight then, huh? Jaywalking and homophobia, my favorite part of his goddamned state."

"Are you not from Jersey?" Mikey questioned, tilting his head. Pete had a bit of an odd accent on certain words, but many people did. It wasn't always dependent of the place you were from.

"Nah," The boy shook his head, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He somehow made sitting under a tree look cool, but Mikey had a feeling that Pete could do anything and make it look cool, "Chicago."

"Chicago?" Mikey repeated curiously. "What the hell did you move out here from Chicago, for?" He was dying to know but Pete wouldn't respond, waving a hand dismissively.

"People move all the time." Pete said. "And my old man died, remember? I had to go live with someone new."

"Don't you have a mother?" Mikey knew he was prodding now and that he should stop with the questions, but Pete didn't seem to be bothered by them. At least, not yet.

Pete shook his head no. "She died when I was little. Some blood thing, the doctor said." Mikey watched as he kicked at a rock, before leaning back up against the tree.

Mikey blew a breath out through his mouth, like a whistle without sound. "Did you do something to piss of God? 'Cause it sounds like you've got quite the bad luck." He asked, curious as to how Pete would reply next. Maybe he'd burned down a church, or rolled a cigar with a page from The Bible.

"God and I have quite the relationship," Pete began fumbling for another cigarette, just to keep him busy, Mikey supposed. The boy was a fidgety person, but he tried to pass it off as being suave. "Every time I think that the big guy and I are getting along, he comes into my life and fucks something else over. That, and I had sex with a priest."

"Pete!" Mikey cried, clapping a hand over his mouth in shock. If anyone found out he was interacting with people like this, he'd be ostracized for sure. You didn't just talk to people like Pete, you were supposed to keep your distance. "You had gay sex with a priest?"

Pete nodded solemnly. "During church," He said, before snorting loudly and cracking up. "No," He said quickly. "I didn't do that, whatever your name is."

"I hate you," The other boy huffed, before offering up his name. "I'm Mikey Way, and that's my tree you're standing under."

"Mikey Way," Pete repeated, in his weird, upper-class voice. "I think I could get used to that."

•••

To say Gerard would die for his country wasn't exactly a lie.

He would die for his country because he had to if the chance came. He didn't want to, because this wasn't America's war, and because he was scared of death, but he had no other choice. It was his life or the man's next to his, and to the government, those two made no difference.

Wilson was a cowardly sonovabitch, and Gerard would have killed to see the man do one brave thing that risked his neck rather than the people below his.

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! super old, discontinued fic. takes place in 1917.


End file.
